


Suits You

by Marmarhargreeves



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Diego Hargreeves is Bad at Feelings, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Good Sister Allison Hargreeves, Stuttering Diego Hargreeves, a shame !!, no beta we die like men, there’s 0 Allison and Diego content, trans diego, trans diego hargreevess, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-14 17:34:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18952747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marmarhargreeves/pseuds/Marmarhargreeves
Summary: Diego can’t take this anymore -  being called Daniella. He can’t stand being roped in as one of the “Hargreeves sisters”. He can’t stomach the stupid long hair and the idiotic bangs. He can’t put up with the dresses or bras. He especially can’t stand the god forsaken menstrual cycles. It was all wrong.OrOne of the Hargreeves sisters is by his side when he needs her most.





	Suits You

**Author's Note:**

> hi!!! so...im finally on break!! im at my grandparents house and i just wrote this bad boy in my iphone notes bc ya kno why not.  
> ive been in a writing rut and idk...i needed a self indulgent vent fic AKA trans stuttering diego hurt/comfort to attempt to break me out of it!! ive toyed around w/ this idea of diego coming out to a sibling as trans for the longest time but it was always with klaus or ben?? and i thought why not allison since there's literally nOTHING for the two of them together (as siblings!!) ya kno??
> 
> anyway, i have some more luther centric requests to do!! and imma try to participate in TUA pride month as much as i can!! i was gonna wait to post this fic then but...i wanna push myself and write something else for it anyway. 
> 
> i hope u enjoy this self indulgent vent fic!!! come talk to me on tumblr queerhargreeves.tumblr.com  
> :))
> 
> and sorry for typos aaaa

Diego can’t take this anymore -  being called Daniella. He can’t stand being roped in as one of the “Hargreeves sisters”. He can’t stomach the stupid long hair and the idiotic bangs. He can’t put up with the dresses or bras. He especially can’t stand the god forsaken menstrual cycles. It was all wrong. 

Every single time he hears that name come from one of his siblings lips, it felt like a punch in the face. He’d much rather be reduced to his ranking than have to hear that god forsaken name one more time. 

When he puts on his bra every morning with shaky hands and shallow breaths, he feels like throwing up. The feeling of his exposed knees and thighs, the airy flow of the dresses, makes his skin burn and itch. Every “Daniella” and “she” and “her” makes him physically recoil. It fucking hurts. It’s all so god damn suffocating. He just can’t take it anymore.

So here he is, alone in his room. It’s a normal night in the academy. 8:00 PM, just past dinner and an hour and a half before lights out. He’s staring at himself in front of the mirror, inspecting how every inch of his body is too wrong. He’s too soft. He turns to the side, the bump of his chest too prominent. 

He scrunches the back of his dress to flatten his chest, longingly watching the way his breasts squish down. He holds it there for a few moment, relishing in the flatness of his body. Even if everything else about him screams _“GIRL”_ , the flat appearance is just the smallest bit comforting. 

He was cursed with hitting puberty early. The boy started his period at 10. They’d just finished an intense training session and he convinced himself he’d gotten internal bleeding after sparring with Luther. He ran right up to Grace, going on and on about how much his abdomen hurt and sobbing about the blood in his underwear. She simply rested her hand against his cheek and they had the infamous talk. Well, one of the infamous talks. The siblings haven’t quite gotten to the next one yet. 

And Diego, much to his dismay, had developed  the biggest breasts of the Hargreeves. He is now a whopping C cup at 12 years old and he never gets to hear the end of it. Klaus would constantly insist that girls would “die for a body like yours” when they put on their stupidly form fitting spandex outfits. Well, he’d die for a body like Klaus’. 

Diego clenches down at his lip, finding the taste of copper in his mouth somewhat grounding. His hands are clenched in tight fists at his side to keep them from shaking. He can’t show any more weakness - he’s done too much of that lately. The three stitches in his eyebrow was proof of that according to Reginald. A stutter too many equals to even harsher punishment. 

“I-I’m a b-b-b-“ Diego lets out a frustrated cry, pounding a fist against his thigh. He’s practiced this over and over again, trying to get the words out. He’s pictured the scenario a million times by now. He just has to say it. He just has to say, “I’m a boy. I’m not Daniella. I’d like to be called Diego”. Just three simple sentences. He wants to tell Mom, to tell all of them. He can’t stand living a lie anymore. 

“I-I,” He takes a deep breath, trying once more. “I’m a b-b-boy. I’m n...not D-Dan...D-“

He’s had enough. He storms up to his closet and wastes no time grabbing the handle and violently throwing the door open. He manages to break the hinges with his strength and he takes every single uniform and throws them on the ground behind him. His vision is blurred with tears, but he doesn’t care. It’s better if he can’t see himself clearly anyway. He’s just getting started.

Allison is half way down the corridor before she comes to a screeching halt. She’s a few feet from Diego’s room and the unmistakable sound of muffled crying is what makes her abandon her original plan of finishing up her nightly routine in the girls bathroom. She holds her breath for a moment, ears straining to make out the muted cries. She takes a few quiet steps towards the door and stops right in front, her hand hovering above the doorknob. She hears the sounds of pillows hitting the floor and quiet grunts accompanying them. She’s noticed her sibling has been...quiet this week. But that wasn’t particularly unusual, especially after what happened a few nights ago at dinner. 

Allison and the rest of the siblings watched as Reginald demanded Dee to read a poem out loud before dinner, insisting that if he were to slip up there would be severe consequences. 

_“A person is only as strong as their words, Number Two! Number Four can speak four different languages and you cannot even manage to speak one properly. You need to get that impediment of yours under control!”_

They didn’t see or hear from him for two days. 

A loud crash and an exasperated cry broke her out of her thoughts, her head snapping towards the door. That’s all she needed to hear.

Allison wastes no time throwing Diego’s door open. Her hands fly to her mouth as she attempts to hide the immediate sharp inhale at the scene she finds on the other side. His mattress is off of the frame, sheets and pillows askew. His uniforms have very obviously been thrown haphazardly from his closet, the floor lost in a sea of clothes and sheets. The closet door itself is no longer attached, but lying on the floor directly next to it. 

His mirror has been completely shattered, bloody glass scattered around the room. She almost can’t find her sibling in the mess, but her heart drops when she does. He’s in a ball in the corner of the room, hugging his knees fiercely with bloody hands. 

“Oh Dee…” She whispers, strategically making her way into the room towards her shaking sibling. She closes the door behind her, reading the urgency and intimacy of the situation. She sits down right in front of Diego and places her hands on his arms.

“Dee?” She calls softly, knowing full well he couldn’t have missed her coming in. He refuses to meet her eyes, head still shoved in the space between his chest and drawn up knees. 

“Dee, please...talk to me. What’s wrong?” Allison tries again, her voice even more gentle. He shakes his head twice violently, tightening his grip on his legs. 

She can’t remember ever seeing her sibling like this. She’s never seen him so small. He was always putting on a brave face, his facade rarely cracking. He had always been so fiercely independent, never wavering in the sight of a challenge. If he did, he made damn sure none of his siblings saw. But she had heard the desperate sniffles and the sweet affirmations from Mom coming from his room on more than one occasion. He was human after all, even if he liked to pretend he wasn't.

“Okay...okay…We can just sit here then, yeah?” She coos, moving to sit down directly next to her sibling. The two of them are shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. She silently wraps an arm around his shoulders and invites him to lean in if he chooses. He immediately does, burying his head in her chest and clutching onto her pajama top tightly with his nonbloody hand. She wraps her other arm around his shaking body as it violently jerks with each sob. She’s rubbing her hand along his back, running her fingers through his hair with her other hand. 

“Shhh...it’s okay, Dee. You’re going to be okay. I got you. That’s it, ‘atta girl…” She continues to whisper kind affirmations as she waits for him to calm down.

After a few minutes of soft whispers and heart wrenching sobbing, she hears his breathing start to even out. She doesn’t let go of her hold though and he doesn’t make an attempt to break from it. 

“Feel better? Sometimes we all need a good cry every now and then.” She speaks up softly, twisting a piece of his hair in between her thumb and index finger. 

She feels him nod against her chest. 

“S-sorry…” He croaks, flinching at his cracking voice. 

“There’s no need to apologize, Dee. You’re my sister. Even if you don’t want to tell me wh-“

“N-not you s...sis.” He interjects quickly, voice wavering. 

“What do you mean?” She asks, shifting so she can look down at the flushed boy in her arms. He slowly breaks from their hold, unwrapping his arms from her embrace and dropping his hands in his lap and twiddling with his fingers. He takes a shaky breath, obviously struggling to get out what he needs to say. 

“Is this what...what that was about?” Allison inquires once more, hoping she can help make this process a little easier for Diego. 

He nods again, finally looking up and meeting his sister's eyes. They’re staring back at him, kind and curious. Not a hint of judgment or repulsion. Her eyes are just concerned and gentle. 

“You can tell me whatever. I don’t want to pry if you don’t want of course. But whatever this is, I promise that I’ll be here for you. You’re my s-“ She stops herself before she can finish, remembering what just happened moments ago. She carefully thinks of a better choice of words. 

“You’re my sibling and I love you.” Allison settles on, watching Diego’s body language. He seems to ease up the tiniest bit at that much to her relief. 

Diego wasn’t planning to tell Allison first. But she has been nothing but patient with him, not judging him for breaking in front of her. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, picturing his rehearsed phrase in his mind before opening his mouth. 

“I-I’m a b-b-boy. I’m not Dan-Daniella. I w...want to be c-called Diego.” He didn’t get it out as smoothly or as quickly as he wanted to, but god did he feel so much lighter once he said it. He slowly opened his eyes, his hands curled into tight fists once more.

Allison patiently waited for him to get what he needed to say out. She didn’t interrupt, didn’t try to finish the thought for him. She simply watched as her sibling spoke of something that was obviously incredibly personal. 

“Diego.” She says as if she was tasting the word in her mouth. It rolls off her tongue with ease. “That name suits you. C’mere you.”

She wraps her arms around Diego one more and chuckles softly into his hair.

“This actually makes a lot of sense. Definitely explains why you insist on wearing two sports bras at a time instead of push up bras like me and Van.” 

He pulls away after a moment, rolling his eyes slightly and giving a small scoff at the statement. 

“Yeah w-well, I’m not really a f...fan of all that so.” 

“Thank you for telling me, Diego. I really mean that. That couldn’t have been easy…” 

His heart skips a beat hearing his name come out of one of his sibling's mouths. He grins widely, looking down to hide the blush appearing on his face. 

“Th-thanks for h...handling it so w-well.”

She nods and takes his hand in hers before she remembers that it’s all scratched up and bloody. 

“Oh Chris, Di!” She exclaims, jumping to her feet and grabbing Diego by the wrist with her. 

“Let’s take you to mom, yeah? Maybe we can tell her together. If you want, of course, no pressure!” She waves her hands, frazzled. She doesn’t want to force Diego to do anything he doesn’t want to do. 

“I’d like that.” He says softly without a single stutter. 

Allison smiles widely at that. She wordlessly reaches her arm out for Diego to link his in. 

“Alrighty then, big bro. Let’s go!”

The two siblings made their down the hall, arms linked and matching smiles plastered on their faces. Diego feels about twenty pounds lighter, already feeling his world open up. Things won’t ever be perfect - not in Reginald Hargreeves household. There was still telling everyone else, changing wardrobes, hair, hormones...It's all a bit overwhelming. But Diego doesn’t have to hide anymore. He doesn’t have to play dress up, pretending he’s someone he’s not. This is just the beginning. 


End file.
